


you are a rose

by natodiangelo



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: Blushing, Kissing, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 03:49:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14300130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natodiangelo/pseuds/natodiangelo
Summary: And their hands are filled with a bouquet. Red – red, red roses, all just barely blooming, their petals delicate and fragrant. The stems are covered in a thick white cloth that protects their hands from the thorns. Shion smiles at them, and it takes them to a dream – one of that hazy summer day, under the clear blue sky, laying out in the flower field with Shion by their side, watching the clouds pass with idle fascination. Eve thinks they blush, or perhaps that’s still the residual flush from performing.





	you are a rose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [powderdonut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/powderdonut/gifts).



> elias wanted more eve so i delivered

The curtain falls. Lights shift, fading from the blinding, goddamn _evil_ one that they have while performing to something a little easier to look at. The audience applauses on the other side of the veil, but Eve is already walking away.

Backstage, things are different. The wig hangs heavier on Eve’s head, a net that both captures and hides its prey. Eve looks at the dim, dusty mirror hanging slightly off kilter on the wall. Lips pink, eyes dark and shadowed, skin fair. The adrenaline that always comes from performing has rushed blood to Eve’s cheeks, making them a darker color than the paper they used to color their lips earlier that day.

Other actors walk behind them. The ground is a mottled mess of wood, molded in places near the walls and discolored with age. Footsteps barely make any sound with how much the panels bend under people’s feet. Eve watches them pass in the mirror’s reflection.

The show was good. It always is, when Eve is there. They know how to captivate the audience, know how to move and what to say and how to say it to be able to completely enchant whoever is watching. They like the attention – like the control it gives them, the ability to get people to do whatever they want.

Likes, specifically, one set of eyes on them, watching their every move.

Likes seeing that set of eyes in the reflection of the mirror, staring at them without hesitation.

“Shion.”

“Nezumi! You did so well!”

And their hands are filled with a bouquet. Red – red, red roses, all just barely blooming, their petals delicate and fragrant. The stems are covered in a thick white cloth that protects their hands from the thorns. Shion smiles at them, and it takes them to a dream – one of that hazy summer day, under the clear blue sky, laying out in the flower field with Shion by their side, watching the clouds pass with idle fascination. Eve thinks they blush, or perhaps that’s still the residual flush from performing.

“Thanks.” They say. Shion grins.

“I thought you might like them!” Shion tells them, and he says it in a way that makes Eve’s heart flutter. “They’re pretty, and they smell like you.”

“What?”

“You always smell like roses,” Shion says. “Do you have a perfume?”

“No,” They say, because they don’t. Shion’s lips are a pale, soft pink. “I – wash my face with it. Rosewater.”

“Well, it smells nice.”

Eve has to agree.

But, even more than the smell, it’s the way the dark red of the petals in their hands contrast the light pink on Shion’s face; it’s the way that Shion’s clear eyes don’t waver from Eve’s, don’t hesitate in the least, never straying. It’s the way that Eve’s heart pounds a mile a minute in their chest.

And apparently, the flush on their face is more pronounced than Eve had originally thought, because from behind them come snickers. Shion peers innocent over Eve’s shoulder, and Eve whirls around.

“What are you laughing at?” They ask. They’re given a look that says “you very well know what we’re laughing at.” And they do. “Shut up before I make you.”

Eve’s fellow actors roll their eyes and walk away.

“Don’t mind them,” Shion says, as if he knows them better than Eve, as if he’s been the one working with them and dealing with them for the past who knows how many years. “I, um – I think your blush is, well… It’s cute.”

“Shut up.” Eve repeats, embarrassed. But Shion doesn’t.

“I like it.” Shion tells them. “You – Nezumi never shows much emotion, you know, even though he feels so much. I like seeing you like this.”

And now Shion is blushing too, a little, on the high edge of his round cheeks, startlingly bright on his pale skin, under his white hair. It’s not as dark as his eyes, but it pulls out their color more, makes them a vivid crimson that shimmers like fresh blood.

“Nezu – Eve, can I-“

They don’t wait to hear the question, don’t wait to give an answer. They just dive in.

Eve presses Shion against the wall next to the mirror, sticks one hand into Shion’s hair and runs the other over the side of his face. Shion is so warm against them, soft and pliable and even as his hands grasp onto the back of their dress – no doubt wrinkling the delicate fabric – Eve really can’t bring themself to care.

They part, panting. Shion is endearingly flushed, eye glossy. Eve is sure they’re not much better, but they hide their face in Shion’s neck, pressing slow kisses to the sensitive skin.

“Eve…” Shion sighs.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

Eve freezes, then buries their face further into Shion’s shoulder.

* * *

(They leave the stage, eventually, after Nezumi changes into his clothes and after the crowd has dissipated. No one is there to see the red stains across Shion’s face, and that’s just the way it’s supposed to be.)


End file.
